


Genius After All

by gothula



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Medical Procedures, Trapped!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothula/pseuds/gothula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an incredible night of passion with Steve nearly gets Tony killed, their friendship is in shambles. </p><p>Did that night damage their relationship beyond repair or will Tony prove to be a genius after all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That Night

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tied and Twisted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/483593) by [51stCenturyFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/51stCenturyFox/pseuds/51stCenturyFox). 



> It's rough and unpolished with no beta. Sentences often end in prepositions, but I couldn't seem to correct that without making it too wordy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony had a small problem while setting up an electromagnet with the intention of testing some new shielding he'd built for the armor. He called Steve for some help. It wasn't the help he thought he needed, but Tony was really okay with the help he got.

“Hey, Steve,” Tony spoke as soon as Steve answered the call. His voice was a little muffled, like he was talking to his phone on speaker from across the room.

“Hi, Tony,” Steve answered, holding the little flat phone awkwardly. He couldn’t get used to just smashing the little touch screen against his face. It felt weird, and he worried that he’d accidentally hang up with his ear or send someone pictures of his jaw again. 

“So… are you busy?” Tony asked after an awkward pause. That was a little odd for Stark. Normally, he wouldn’t have let Steve get a word in until half-way through a conversation he was nearly having with himself.

“No, just doodling,” Steve tossed the sketchpad off his lap as he heard the distinct ring metal striking metal, and Tony grunted in pain. He was on his feet, moving toward the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I just need a hand down in the workshop.” Tony answered in a strained tone. “I’m not hurt.”

Of course that meant that he probably was hurt. Steve ran for the elevator. “If you’re hurt and not telling me, I’m grounding you.”

Tony didn’t laugh or crack a joke about preferring a recreational spanking, which worried Steve, but getting a report made it worse as he jogged through the hall. “Cut on my chest. Not deep, a scratch. A huge bruise where that wrench smacked my hip, but nothing bad. Just hang up and get down here – one floor under the workshop. Testing Room 1.”

“Damn it! You agreed to have someone else down there for any weapons testing!” Steve snarled, stepping into the elevator.

“Captain, Sir has hung up.” JARVIS informed him quietly as the doors closed.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. He looked up at the floor indicator. The AI already had it moving. “Thanks, JARVIS.”

“I apologize for not informing you sooner, Captain. Sir has restricted me from accessing anything in testing room one and has completely isolated it from the power and other systems in the building.”

“What’s he doing in there?”

“I have no idea.” JARVIS paused for a moment. “I am worried, Captain.”

“You and me both, fella.”

*****

Steve expected destruction, chaos, blood, and possibly flames when he opened the heavy blast door labeled ‘Testing Room 1’ in two inch tall letters.

Instead, it was just a room full of old-fashioned-for-Tony terminals with blank screens. Tony was in about the center of the room with his arms over his head, wrists trapped against a metal donut wrapped in copper wire. The whole thing was about the size of his torso suspended from the ceiling on a steel pole. His feet only just touched the ground.

“What the heck?” Steve froze in the doorway, suddenly and inappropriately turned on. Tony’s whole body was taut, stretched up like an offering. He’d be eternally grateful that Tony was facing the other way because the smart mouthed inventor would never, ever let him hear the end of it otherwise. 

“Electromagnet,” Tony tried to twist around to see him, only managing a partial turn before he twisted back. Steve swallowed dryly at the pull of muscles under the black shirt. “Can you reach the switch? It’s on the top – which I am moving as soon as I get down. Forgot I had the bracelets on.”

“Uh, sure.” Steve walked over cautiously, trying to simultaneously ignore and memorize the way Tony looked dangling there. He got as close as he dared, not touching the taut, solid frame and took a deep breath. Bad Idea. Tony always smelled like grease and metal shaving and sweat – even under his fancy colognes. That smell filled his head and had him licking his lips – wondering how it would taste. He looked up at the magnet and caught sight of the dampness of sweat on his neck and all he wanted to do was lick it off.

Aching with the same want he’d been ignoring for months, he reached up, feeling along the top edge of the metal donut. “Am I close?” He bit the inside of his jaw, flinching at the hunger in his own voice.

“Just above it,” Tony answered, but his voice was a little breathless. Steve tiptoed, fumbling along the top of the donut, but he could only feel more wire. He lost his balance and tipped forward, smashing into and catching himself on Tony. They both gasped. For just a second, he was flush against Tony’s back with a hand on his hip. He felt the lean lines of muscle across Tony’s shoulders and down his back, and the firm swell of his butt crushed against Steve’s lap. He jerked away from the contact hoping Tony didn’t notice.

“Whoa big fella!” Tony laughed as soon as Steve moved, but it was strained. “You’re packing some heat there, Rogers.”

“Uh. Sorry.” Steve muttered, moving in to trying again but more from the side.

“Don’t apologize. Cause you know: DAMN,” Tony chuckled. He dropped his head back to grin at Steve. “You should have said you were busy. I could have called Thor.”

Embarrassed and all too aware of his hunger for his teammate, Steve shrugged. He could be nonchalant when he really put effort into it. “I wasn’t busy.”

“Hey, for non-emergencies, making a withdrawal from the spank bank counts as ‘being busy’.” Tony informed him with relish, giving him that bright, devil-may-care smile. God, Steve wanted to bite his mouth.

Trying to focus on finding the damn switch, Steve tried to ignore Tony. If he ignored him long enough, maybe they could just pretend this hadn’t happened.

Tony mistook his lack of response for confusion and tried to be helpful. Damn him. “Spank bank is slang for – “

“No, I get it. I wasn’t – doing that.” Steve said, getting desperate to find the damn switch and get out of here.

“What? This is all for me?” Tony leered at him and licked his lips. “That it? Here I am all helpless and that hit your button, huh?”

Tony was teasing him. Steve stared telling himself that in a mantra, staring at, but no longer seeing the top of the metal donut. It took the genius about twenty seconds to get it.

“Oh.” Tony swallowed audibly, tipping his head forward again. He peeked at Steve around his own bicep. “So, seriously? 

Biting the inside of his cheek harder, Steve kept fumbling overhead, pretending that he couldn’t hear Tony. His ignore-it-and-it-will-go-away tactic started failing when Tony let out a little huff of breath and a sighed, “Wow.”

He didn’t sound teasing or flirty or even seductive like he normally did when talking about sex around Steve. Tony loved trying to rile him up or make him blush. The smooth ladies man sounded shocked. Steve studied Tony’s profile for a second, taking in the flush on his face and wide eyes. 

Part payback for months of teasing and part hunger, Steve put his hands on Tony’s hips and squeezed gently. He kept his eyes up on the magnet, waiting for Tony to crack a joke so they could get past this.

Tony’s brain stuttered at the feel of those solid, wide, and warm hands cupping his hipbones. He didn’t dare try to look at Steve, scarcely breathed because he didn’t want to risk anything bringing Steve back to his senses.

Steve stepped closer, still not quite touching, but so close that Tony could feel his breath on his neck, the heat of him radiating out. Two thumbs started rubbing little circles. “Good. Great. Wow.”

Oh God, why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut? Biting his lip, Tony tensed, waiting for Steve to just storm out. Why couldn’t he be quiet just until Steve bolted?

Steve’s mouth was suddenly just beside his neck. Tony could almost feel his lips, right at the edge of his hairline. “Can I touch you?”  
“Yeah, okay,” Tony panted, feeling his IQ drop into the double digits as Steve’s hot forehead pressed to his shoulder, and those big hands slid up under his shirt. 

Taking his time, Steve’s big hands moved up his stomach. Fingertips traced the bottom of the reactor and made a slow sweep to his nipples. A pinch, a flick, and then Steve palms just pressed in, massaging lightly. Tony kept from saying how good that felt by gnawing on his tongue, but a moan escaped anyway.

Steve moved his head, shifting so that his mouth was open and wet, biting and licking and sucking the skin along Tony’s shirt collar. “Oh, God!” Tony groaned tilting his head back and to the side because he really wanted Steve doing that all over.

Fingers moved down, out from under his shirt. They slid with delicious pressure over the front of his jeans. His hips bucked, and Steve shifted against him, pinning Tony between his hands and his dick — grinding.

Steve grunted and licked the shell of his ear. “If you want me to stop, say it now.”

Inarticulate, Tony shook his head and whimpered, rocking back and forth needing the pressure from Steve’s hands, but enjoying making Steve shudder when he gave back a little pressure of his own.

A dark chuckle pushed him from good-hot to achy-hot. Could Captain America even laugh like that? There had to be a law or ordinance or something against it in super soldier handbook because that noise? Pure sin. Steve started nibbling his ear lobe as he opened Tony’s pants, and Tony made a wholly embarrassing whimper.

His pants and boxers bunched mid-thigh, but Tony couldn’t manage to care because at that moment, Steve ran his blunt nails up to scratch along his hip bones. 

Hot palms massaged the top of his thighs, just rubbing the skin. Tony panted desperate and on edge because any second Steve was going to panic and run.

Steve’s mouth started sucking on the pulse point below his ear as his thumbs brushed against the side of Tony’s dick. It twitched, and Tony bucked, groaning when Steve’s hands wrapped around him in a teasing stroke. He was still wearing pants, but Tony could feel the not-so-little captain grinding through the cotton against his butt. 

Strong fingers and agile wrists moved and pushed, sliding between his thighs to squeeze his balls. The pressure and motion made Tony squirm. He rocked pathetically, unable to get traction with his feet barely touching the ground. “Oh, please. Damn please. Please?”

Steve smiled against his neck and bit his ear lobe. “Need something thicker than spit.”

Just like that Steve was gone. Tony rocked aching for friction — half certain that this was either a very lucid dream or the best hallucination ever — too desperate to worry about being left dangling there naked and vulnerable. Steve coming back he took on faith because Steve wouldn't leave him to die like this.

He heard footsteps and gasped sharply when Steve pressed abruptly against him again. Steve was naked because Tony could feel the hard length of him bare and hot grinding into him. The wide wet tip slid sloppily on his lower back, and he could tell that nothing but his own t-shirt was between his back and Steve’s chest.

A slick hand wrapped tight around Tony, and he nearly came just from that, but Steve’s fist slid down to sharply squeeze his base. The jolt of pressure and pain made Tony shout. “Not yet, " Steve growled against his neck.

Steve’s hips backed off a little. Tony arched his back, trying to thrust against the fist around him and press against Steve at the same time. He should be talking, telling Steve how amazing this was so they wouldn’t stop, but all he could get out were pants and grunts because his brain was completely starved for blood right now.

He jolted forward when a thick, slick finger rubbed down the line of his ass and probed gently. Steve’s voice came out a husky rasp beneath his ear. “Say so if you want me to stop.”

Tony managed to shake his head, pushing against the finger. He’d never actually been on the receiving end before, but if the rest felt any better than this, he was going to die right here – hanging from a magnet with his pants around his knees. Resolutely, Tony did not care.

The finger pushed into him slowly, rubbing in and out in quick thrusts. He heard Steve mutter, “So tight.”

Then Steve started biting at his neck and ear, sucking and gnawing on the line of his throat. 

“Steve,” he managed to pant, trying to turn his head. Steve was smiling when he licked the edge of Tony’s mouth. They both groaned as that finger pushed in past the second knuckle. Tony tried to spread his legs because the intrusion was uncomfortably tight, but his pants were bunched three inches over his knee and wouldn’t let him. He pulled his weight up onto his arms and tried to kick the damn things lower.

“Stop!” Steve growled. The harsh order sent a bolt of pleasure like an electric current straight to his dick. “It’ll be easier with your legs together.”

How did Steve even know that? Tony wondered shivering and relaxing his arms again as Steve went back to sucking and probing. Who cared?

Tony flinched when the finger slid out, and the hand on his dick let go. “Wait! I want you!"

Steve laughed, low and husky. Tony heard a plastic click. Then two wet fingers were pushing into him. He shivered, feeling a little out of his depth as those slick, clever fingers started working inside him, spreading him open. The sounds he made changed when Steve started nuzzling him, whispering dirty things – describing how hot this was, how hot it was going to be when he was inside Tony.

“Oh, God. Oh God!” Tony panted. “Steve can’t talk like that! You’re an alien. A shape shifter. This is some kind of plot. You’re going to implant an alien egg or something. Chest popper! God, it’s worth it. Don’t stop!”

Steve shook his head snickering, his fingers stilled. “Tony, geeze. I can talk like that. I can tell you how you look, hung up like this – like a gift. You can't swagger out with a clever line. I want to tear your shirt off, lick every inch of skin I can find. Bite you. Fuck you.”

Tony wanted to protest, because he'd never heard Steve say 'fuck' before, but he lost his train of thought when Steve started working him with his fingers again. Steve’s other hand slid over his stomach, rubbing the trembling muscles there. It occasionally dipped down to tease his dick, but never enough pressure to do anything but make Tony harder. 

“Shh. Easy,” Steve murmured when Tony sobbed, but the bastard rubbed that spot again, making his brain short circuit and his whole body scream for release. The feeling was so intense that Tony didn’t really notice the fingers sliding out while he tried to breathe and get his brain working again. He did notice when three fingers started pushing. For a while, Steve just teased, pushing the three in, pulling them out slowly. 

Steve’s other hand left his stomach and moved between his thighs, firmly massaging his balls again.

Tony felt every inch as three fingers pushed in past the second knuckle, stretching and twisting, pushing the slick lubricant deeper. 

Half-blessing, half-curse, Steve found that spot again, rubbing and grinding it until Tony was a mess of pleas and whimpers.

“Steve. Steve. S-steve!” Tony managed to whisper, trying to tell him to get on with it because Tony’s dying and this will stop being fun when he’s a corpse. He could think the jokes, but nothing came out but that name. 

“Hey,” Steve mumbled, nuzzling and kissing his ear. “I got you, Tony. Just a little more.”

The hand on his balls moved again. Tony heard the snap of rubber, smelled the mix of latex and sweat. He tensed, squeezing around the fingers inside him. Finally, Steve made a desperate, pained noise of his own. 

“Easy. We’ll slow down,” the taller man panted as his fingers started massaging that spot inside Tony relentlessly. 

“No, it’s good. I’m good. God, don’t stop!” Tony got out, trying to force himself to relax again. Steve just kept rubbing inside him, ignoring his pleas. Shaking and sweating, Tony hovered right on the edge of bliss just from Steve working his fingers inside him. He rocked against Steve’s hand, letting his head fall back because Steve’s mouth was still on a mission to devour him neck first.

When the slick fingers pulled back and the hand between his legs moved to squeeze his hip, Tony panted in relief. He just needed a minute to calm down a little, and then he’d treat dirty-mouth Rogers to some serious sex talk. Tony was normally the king of this. He just needed a minute to back down from the edge. 

Steve nuzzled and nibbled to his mouth, twisting both their necks awkwardly to have a short shallow kiss. Tony sucked and licked, trying to hold on to Steve’s lips with his own. Then he felt the slick, blunt tip of Steve’s cock pressing slowly into him - felt the internal axis of his entire being shift. 

“Okay. Okay. Okay,” Tony rambled as the head eased deeper. Where the fingers had writhed and stroked, this just filled him. Steve’s slick hand wrapped around his dick wet with more lubricant. “Take a deep breath.”

Tony obeyed against his mouth, but Steve drew his head back and bit the back of his neck hard. The sting made Tony jerk a little, thrusting into the tight fist. In the blaze of pleasure from the hand around him, Tony barely felt the burn inside him as Steve pushed and stretched him wider than his fingers had managed.

He really, really noticed it for about a second, but then Steve shifted behind him, gnawing on his neck and gave a sharp thrust.

“God! Fuck! Steve!”Tony shouted as the rigid length of Steve’s cock ground into that spot inside him that made the pleasure centers of his brain scream.

“That’s it,” Steve purred. Was that a thing? Could Steve purr? Tony stopped caring again when Steve started moving in and out, little thrusts that rubbed that spot every time. He pushed a little deeper every time until Tony felt hipbones fush against his ass. His chest felt tight, and he was very aware of confessing his eternal love because knowing Steve was all the way inside him flipped a switch he never knew he had. 

Tony knew he started babbling – promising crazy things, begging, but Steve just kept going. He would be impressed later; right now he just wanted more. “Steve, you’re inside me. Like actually in me. I never thought - I mean Ifantasized about us, but I never thought– oh God.”

Their pace changed suddenly, viciously. Steve’s hammered into him now, stroking Tony’s dick fast and tight with the other hand gripping his hip for balance. His grunts in Tony’s ear did delicious, terrible things — making Tony confess.

“God, I wanted you. I want you every day. You just wear those shirts, and bite your lip at me. And God! Oh, sweet Christ! You’re fucking me. Oh, hell. Every Day. Every damn day I wanted –.” 

“Tony,” Steve moaned, just pressing the side of his face against Tony’s neck, still working their hips in a steady, harsh rhythm. Tony lost it.

Sharp, stinging spasms of muscles that only ever felt awesome made him shout and sob and scream. Steve put both hands on his hips after he wrung him out and lifted Tony up on his toes with each thrust, going deeper and harder.

It was jarring, but his orgasm left Tony too fried to do more than moan and arch his hips as his teeth rattled. Steve’s dick hit that spot inside him again, and Tony sobbed his name because he was too sensitive to get back in the game, but damn it felt good. 

Steve shuddered against him, giving a rapid succession of quick, shallow thrusts. Tony felt the condom swell inside him. Sagging and panting, Steve leaned against him. A hand slick with lube and proof that Tony had a great time rubbed his stomach, and Steve kissed his neck in slow open mouth nibbled. After a lazy minute of indulgence, Steve pulled back. 

It hurt. Tony grunted and tensed at the very uncomfortable sensation of – well - shitting out Steve’s dick. Oh, he did not ever want that thought. That thought intruded on the fuzzy bliss. He heard the wet noise of the condom coming off followed by a shuffling sound and then the grind of a zipper. 

Steve came back, pants up as he pressed against Tony again. One arm wrapped around his chest and the other reached up. Steve fumbled with the magnet for a minute, but gave up with a sigh. He wrapped a hand around the edge of it and yanked. 

Metal screamed, and the sickening snap of breaking steel echoed like cannon fire. Tony’s arms burned as his full weight transferred to his feet. Steve slowly lowered the magnet and kissed Tony’s neck when he found the ridiculously small button. The magnet released the scraped bracelets and Steve tossed it aside with one hand like it didn’t weigh forty pounds.

Tony leaned back against the solid body. His left hand was kind of asleep. Steve gently reached down to pull Tony’s pants up, and oh — Ow. Tony started to double over, but froze because that motion did not help. 

Steve moved slowly, standing in front of Tony with his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. The arc reactor had to be digging into his chest, but Steve didn’t seem to mind as he pressed his mouth over Tony’s.

Lips and tongues fought lazily in the afterglow, and Steve kept a possessive arm around him as they shuffled to the workshop because the couch was a lot closer than any bed. 

Wrapped up in a very affectionate, very warm Steve, Tony started to fall asleep. They didn’t talk – which was okay. Tony’s brain was still completely offline, and Steve was always quiet. He – Tony – had no idea how people talked after something like that, but it didn’t matter right now.

Steve murmured hungry, naked things that only made sense between lovers in the dark. Uncertain in the face of such intense tenderness, Tony just latched on and held tight. His brain came online just long enough to make a note that he should get tangled up in some cable in the lab with one of the heavy gym mats down there. He’d think of reason to have a mat in the workshop later – he was a genius after all.


	2. Flesh Unwilling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last night had some unintended consequences, and consequence - like fate - always wanted to make Tony her bitch.
> 
> This chapter is angst. Only remembered smut. Sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not my fault. I tried to write a little one-shot of smut, and let it go. Could I do that? No, because ac had to comment and point out that a powerful electromagnet might do some damage what with Tony's little shrapnel-arc reactor issue.
> 
> So THIS is on her (or him).

After a few bleary moments of voices muttering made-up words like “pericardial tamponade” and other nonsense he couldn’t understand, Tony managed to drag one eye open and then the other. His first conscious thought was reverently devoted to the inherit awesomeness of the ceiling tiles.

How did they stay all the way up there in such neat little rows? He had no idea, but they were awesome – beyond awesome. Why was he just noticing this? Was everybody else just waiting for him to notice?

“Awake?” a deep voice asked from over his head. Tony looked around. Wow, were the ceiling tiles talking to him? Totally awesome.

Bruce Banner moved into his line of sight with a worried little frown behind his man of science and all things in geekery glasses. “Tony, are you awake?”

“You’re awesome!”

Anyone else would have laughed or agreed or just humored him. Bruce just froze for a second and then went back to looking all doctor-y – because he was totally awesome like that.

“Tony?” Steve appeared on his other side with his pouty mouth and big blue eyes. 

“Steve!” Tony shouted, trying to hug him, but he only managed to flail his arms. “Hey! Wow! Detachable!”

They totally were. His arms were floating independent of his body. Bruce caught one of the floating arms and squeezed the wrist, taking the pulse. “Hey! Is that my arm?”

Steve made a weird noise like someone poked him with a stick, but Bruce just grinned. “Yeah, Tony. That’s your arm.”

“Wow!” Tony smiled up at Steve. “Oh yeah! Steve? This ceiling rocks!”

“What?”

Bruce snickered, checking the IV leads in Tony’s totally detachable arms. “He’s still on morphine.”

“Oh.” Steve looked down at Tony with his big aw-shucks-apple-pie smile. “Good stuff?”

“Awesome! My arms come off!”

Steve caught a flying arm and carefully pinned it back down on the bed. “Yeah, I see that.” His big, warm hand held Tony’s hand. That was nice.

“I feel that,” Tony told them. He wanted to be sure they knew he could still feel his arms, because clearly Bruce could reattach them or Steve would be more worried.

They started talking nonsense again like Charlie Brown’s teacher. Tony tried to explain the reference to Steve, but his tongue was thick and slow. Steve just squeezed his hand. That was okay. If Steve was here then everything was okay. Tony slipped back into the warm, fuzzy floaty-ness with the great ceiling and the little beep-beep of Steve imitating a bird. Why was he doing that? 

Oh, who cared? Steve was there. Tony was okay.

*******

“He’s gonna be fine, Steve,” Bruce promised, updating Tony’s chart with his latest vitals. JARVIS was keeping a constant digital record, but Bruce preferred a chart he could look over in his hands to the glowing screens. 

“The bleeding’s stopped?” Steve asked, swallowing hard. 

“Yes, the pooled blood around his heart was the problem, but the pericardiocentesis was successful. He’ll have to take it easy for while – some bed rest if we can keep him down, but after that, he’ll be fine,” Bruce reassured him. Steve still remembered waking up with Tony in his arms unconscious and hyperventilating with his skin turning varying shades of blue and ash gray. 

“How much worse did I make it?” Steve choked on the words. He remembered every second of last night now with mounting horror. How much pain had Tony been in, dangling there with the magnet tugging on the shrapnel around his heart? Every kiss, every bite and the impossible, raw wonder of sliding into Tony's body was tainted now, ruined by the vicious whisper in his mind. How many of the incredible sounds Tony made - the whimpers, the moans, the harsh panting of Steve's name - how much of that had been because the metal inside him was trying to work it's way out? How much damage had Steve done by taking liberties with him while he was bleeding out inside?

“Don’t,” Bruce put down the chart and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. It was awkward, nervous like Bruce always was. “As soon as you knew he was in trouble, you got help. He’s alive. He’s going to make a full recovery.” Dark eyes that knew all about guilt held Steve’s gaze. “Unless you’ve got x-ray vision you’ve been keeping secret, you couldn’t have known anything was wrong.”

“I had sex with him!” Steve protested with his voice heavy and angry. He would be embarrassed later – setting that aside like he had when Bruce first met him in the workshop. “He had to be in pain! He had to be feeling the metal moving, and I just—“

With a sharp shake of his head and a tight squeeze on his shoulder, Bruce cut Steve off. “No. The metal fragments are deep in his tissue. While the magnet was powerful, it didn’t have the pull to do more than shift them a few millimeters against the constant field put out by the arc reactor. You didn’t hurt him, Steve. To be honest, if you’d just let him down and left, we both know he’d have taken off the bracelets and gone right back to work.”

Bruce pulled away, rolling his shoulders a little and taking a deep breathe through his nose. His voice became a little hoarse. “We might not have found him in time.”

Steve watched the doctor turn away, getting himself back under control. He sympathized with the impotent anger that had to be crawling through Bruce like it was clawing at him. Tony could have died last night. If he hadn’t managed to call Steve somehow, if Steve had left him after getting him free —they’d have found him pale and still, dangling there with all that vitality, all his burning brilliance and flair just gone.

Taking a deep breath, Steve pushed his own feelings back and focused on helping Bruce. “But we did, and he’s safe.”

Bruce nodded, taking slow breaths, but his fists were still clenched. 

He had to distract Banner, give him something to think about besides what could have happened. “Natasha and Clint were fixing lunch. Go get some food and rest. I’ll keep an eye on Tony.”

A soft laugh made Steve frown. Bruce looked over his shoulder. “Always in command, Cap?”

Sharing that smile and the affection behind it, Steve shrugged. “Just a friend suggesting you need to eat more and get some rest after performing emergency medical services, and I’m not leaving. Not until he’s conscious.”

Bruce didn’t argue, but he did turn back in the door way. “I – it’s not my business, but he’s – you’re good for him.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond, but Banner didn’t give him a chance, slipping out of the lab without another word.

Alone for the first time since this mess started, Steve collapsed into the metal chair by Tony’s bed. He put his head on the back of Tony’s lax, calloused hand and listened to the steady beep of the heart monitor and the low sigh of Tony’s breath. Every moment of last night replayed in his mind, but this time Tony's pleas were for help. Steve tortured himself with the certainty that Tony had been feeling it and had ignored the pain to please Steve. If he'd just kept under control, kept his hands to himself - which he'd been doing very well for the last few months - Tony would have said something was wrong.

This was his fault, and damned if he knew how Tony would feel about what they’d done when he finally, fully woke up.


	3. Heart Willing, Mind Knows Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an amazing night together, Tony nearly died, and Steve knows it's all his fault.
> 
> Tony is not yet aware of his latest near-death experience, but he is very aware of their night together and knows that it has to be the last one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter of pure angst. 
> 
> I'm not sorry now. I've moved on. This is a horror-show of bad sentence structure, but I'm ignoring that too. 
> 
> It will get worse (read more angst) before it gets better.

Waking up without the warm, cuddly bliss of morphine was like being dipped into ice water. Tony was hyperaware of the dull burn in his chest just beside the arc reactor and after that every heavy inch of his body sent a quiet throb to his brain reminding him that: yes, everything was still here and no, nothing felt good.

He had no idea why everything hurt and shifted a little, trying to get comfortable. A flare of sharper more intense soreness snapped his mind from its decaffeinated, unlubricated state. He didn’t know why everything else hurt, but Tony remembered clearly in 3D HD with surround sound why sitting up would be a very uncomfortable choice right now. 

If not for that particular ache, he would have filed the intense memory as the best black-out drunken hallucination of his life.

Further proof that he had indeed been sexed by a national icon currently drooled on his forearm. Steve Rogers had fucked him last night — or whenever he was last conscious — in Testing Room 1 while he was suspended from an electromagnet. Tony remembered every desperate, humiliating confession he’d made while Rogers thoroughly, relentlessly took him to school. Rogers — because calling him Steve made the whole mess way too intimate — had the self-control of a saint, a dirty mouth that would put the devil to shame, and knew more about having sex with a man than Tony had mistakenly assumed he knew about the concept of sex itself. 

Sex was fantastic. Tony could deal with that. Yes, he’d been a mess —a hungry, needy mess. Normally, he’d just go for a second one-night stand to set the record straight. With anyone else, at any other time in his life, he’d just seduce and thoroughly return the favor.

It was what happened after the sex that had him doing a full retreat. After absolutely blowing Tony’s mind, Steve ripped the magnet off its steel base. At the time, Tony had been too high on endorphins to appreciate the absolute hotness of Steve — Rogers' - casual use of super human strength. That wasn’t what terrified him. The scary thing was the nuzzling and kissing and cuddling that Rogers methodically inflicted on him the entire short walk to the workshop. Then being wrapped up in muscles and warmth on the couch while Steve fell asleep. Captain freaking America held on to him like he was a teddy bear, whispering sweet, loving things until Tony dropped off too.

Four months ago, he’s have shouted it from the rooftop, signed up on Twitter just to tweet it, taken out 5 minutes of ad time on every billboard in Times Square to tell the world that Tony Stark had amazing sex with Captain America. Four months ago, he was just Iron Man – free agent of privatized world peace. Aliens had not yet invaded, and the Avengers Initiative was a pipe dream Fury had waved in his face to show him that he still wasn’t good enough.

Right now, all Tony wanted was to figure out how to sneak out of the new medical unit he’d installed in the 5th floor from the roof of the Tower without waking Rogers, and quietly pretend that night never, ever happened.

Looking down at the big blonde head, Tony chewed his lip. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this. God, how he wanted this. Watching Steve’s wide shoulders rise and fall slowly, all Tony wanted was to hang on — not to Captain America the icon but to Steve. 

Steve — who took one look at SHIELD’s team building exercises suggestion memo and told eye-patch-badass Nick Fury to his face that most of the thing sounded dumb and he’d figure out what his team needed the easy way. He’d ask them. 

Clint apparently had a thing for eating at the table. Tony always wondered how that came up in conversation between the two, but at least once a day, everybody was gathered around the dining table or in the breakfast nook eating and talking. When he thought no one noticed, Barton would shoot Steve quick looks of gratitude that embarrassed the hell out of Tony when he caught them. Steve would just smile or ask to be passed something. He never made a big deal out of it, but that’s what made it so huge.

For Bruce, they had a standing date to hit the library on Wednesday morning. They’d all go, spread out to browse, and go home with a few things to read. It was silly because JARVIS could call up any book there, but Tony never mentioned it because Steve would just talk about the smell and feel of a good book. He’d say it because Bruce wouldn’t, but Tony knew Bruce was a book man deep down.

Natasha got her hands on everybody once a week for hand to hand. Steve was with her, mostly as her indestructible demonstration dummy, but seeing somebody like half his size wipe the floor with Cap was hilarious and educational. Her grins were just slightly less evil for a couple hours after teaching ‘how not to die 101.’

When Thor came back, Steve started casually inviting everyone to go to museums or movies or just spend the afternoon at Coney Island. He said it was because he wanted to see the New York of Today, but really it was for Thor who just loved all things Midgardian. Sometimes they’d see a family with two little kids – a big brother holding a little brother’s hand – and Thor would get a billion mile stare. It wasn’t hard to work out why, but Steve always had a distraction ready – a ride to try or one of the totally rigged boardwalk booth games to challenge Thor to best him at. 

Steve found out what they liked or needed and made it happen. It wasn’t some devious plot for SHIELD or some psychobabble trick to make them manageable; Steve looked after them because that’s what he needed - who he was.

He wasn’t a push over. When he disagreed, he’d stand his ground against anybody. He could teach stubborn to a rock, and when his coffee was too hot, he blew on it and set it aside for about two minutes, then picked it up and blew against before he drank. Steve liked real cream in it – one splash from the carton. He also made a little face when one of them swore in public – the same face he made when Clint introduced him to Spaghetti-Os. 

Tony reached over with his free hand, careful of the IV, and lightly touched Steve’s short hair. He wanted that man. He wanted to sit beside him on the couch while the team was playing Monopoly or Scrabble and lean against him, to just be with him, but he knew better.

Pepper – who put up with him for years – lasted four months as IronMan’s girlfriend. They never fought. Even when they broke up it was just a couple of minutes of talking over each other until they before they both started listening and realized that they were both trying to let the other down easy. That was just how in sync they were. Pepper was his lodestar, magnetic north, the constant by which he set his course, but she couldn’t do that from beside him.

Despite their Avenger-born friendship, Tony and Steve fought like alley cats. It was loud, messy, and awful every time. They never argued about missed briefings or inappropriate use of letterhead or whatever the last thing with Pepper had been. Their fights were serious. Winning was secondary to getting Steve to understand Tony's argument. He didn’t give a damn – most of the time – if he got his way, because getting his way didn’t matter if Steve didn’t agree with him or at least get the point Tony made. If Steve gave in for anything less than that, Tony didn’t want to win.

Which Tony was pretty sure made him clinically insane.

Even worse, that worked. They worked. The Avengers worked, and part of that – a huge part of that – was Steve and Tony.

Tony handled their material needs: awesome headquarters free of SHIELD oversight – check, mad science with Bruce and state-of-the-art facilities to provide kickass cutting edge everything – check. On a mission, he provided aerial cover, tactical data, mobile ops, and was a one-man-battle-machine. He honestly had no clue when any of their birthdays were or if somebody had a paralyzing fear of shellfish or allergy – whatever.

Steve led them in the field. He could listen to reports and change battle plans on the fly still out maneuver the bad guys and bring them all home alive. In the interim, he kept them together somehow. He made the Tower feel like home, remembered every birthday with cake and ice cream, and was already hiding wrapped Christmas presents in his closet – not that Tony was a snoop.

The others had their roles, too. Clint got a perch and kept an eye on them from up high with lethal arrows flying true or got down and dirty with some hands on kick ass; at home, he hunted them down and commiserated when they were sulky, then he’d smart off and tease and force anybody to smile. 

Natasha was their dark queen of death, but she left little presents everywhere: new teas for Bruce would fall out of the cabinet when some unsuspecting coffee hunter opened it, guidebooks for pub-crawling the cities of the world kept showing up in the couch cushions for Thor, Steve got ridiculously touristy junk, Tony poked at the cookies or brownies that kept showing up on his worktable for half an hour before daring to try one. He didn’t know what she did for Clint, but some mysteries were healthier to leave alone. 

Thor was Thor. He’d drink with them, laugh with them, gave out manly hugs – because everything he ever did was manly – and say something frighteningly insightful just when one of them needed to hear it.

The Team worked. Fuck you very much Mr. “Iron Man, yes. Tony Stark, no.” Natasha wrote that, but Fury put it in his face like a nasty playground kid saying, “Na ni na ni na na. You can’t play with us.”

Tony would not screw them up. He couldn’t.

Being Iron Man gave him purpose like he’d never known, something to use his incredible mind for that meant something. His life meant something. It was lonely at the top, but he had to do the job because there was no one else.

Being an Avenger gave him a place in a world that he’d never fit into before. The Avengers understood. They all of them had screw-ups in their past – mistakes that cost lives, betrayals that calcified them, they’d all let someone down, but together they could share the load. What had Fury said? “Fight the battles we never could.” That was them. They could do the job when it needed to be done, and between their harrowing near-death experiences, they could rely on each other, take care of each other.

Tony could not screw that up – for himself as much as for them.

He also couldn’t imagine a relationship with Steve doing anything else.

Their fights would turn nasty and personal. Shouting would become stilted silences, and Tony couldn’t handle that. He’d leave. He’d leave the only place that had ever really felt like home because he couldn’t live in the shadows of loud, angry quiet again. His childhood had held enough of those to last him.

He needed a massive reset button to go back before that night when Steve’s smiles were just camaraderie, and Tony only had the half remembered dream of his taste.

Vivid recall of how Steve kissed, how he bit Tony’s neck as he pushed in huge, hard, and possessive as he put part of himself inside Tony, surfaced with visceral cruelty. 

No, no, no. Tony drew his hand away from Steve’s hair. He could walk away from this. He just needed Rhodey. Rhodey could talk sense into him, give him perspective. Not that he didn’t know how bad the idea was, but Rhodey has eyes in all his blind spots. Together, they’d make a reasonable plan to get out of this.

Steve stirred, and – discretion kicking valor’s ass – Tony wisely closed his eyes and forced his body to relax. He listened to the sharp inhale and the mutter of sleepy frustration as Steve sat up and stretched. Tony bit his tongue to hold in a smile as Steve whispered an apology, and he felt a corner of the blanket wipe the drool off his arm. 

Apologizing to a sleeping person for accidentally drooling on them in his sleep was just so Steve that Tony’s hearth clenched. He breathed through it, aware of Steve’s soothing voice, telling him he was safe with a big hand petting his face intimately. 

The realization burned like submerged phosphorus as he memorized every second of the gentle, soothing touch. Tony Stark was more than half in love with Captain America, and damned if he could do anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't think I could make it worse did you? Just wait. Remember, none of this is ultimately my doing - except for 12%. The rest is not on me.


	4. Soul Searching Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months after that night, Steve still can't find closure because Tony won't even let him say he's sorry. Weary of the growing distance between himself and the team, Steve makes the only choice that a leader can in this situation: he'll say his piece and then say goodbye.

Perched on the balcony of the entrainment room, Steve listened to Thor and Clint play full-contact foosball with the newly reinforced table game. Their noise and playful taunting was a welcome change to the silence that chased him into every room of the Tower these days.

He’d finished the perspective lines with a straight edge a couple days ago, and now that most of the buildings had form, he wanted to give them character. He shaded and cross-hatched to capture the shadows and little odd shapes of the city from such an incredible height. 

An unwelcomed ghost drifted through his mind in the form of those terrible words.

_”I just need a minute! Okay?”_

Steve could still hear Tony’ s harsh snarl from eight months ago, after Bruce finished explaining the medical procedure he’d performed to save Tony’s life. Feeling lower than branch mud, Steve had mumbled an apology and left. If that had been the end of it, he would have pushed harder in those first weeks, tried to make Tony talk about what happened between them. When he closed the door to the recovery room, he’d leaned back against it to give a silent prayer – thanking God because Tony was alive, angry, but alive and whole. Bruce had warned him that there was a very slim chance of brain damage; Tony’s blood pressure had been nearly nonexistent when they got him hooked up to the monitors. Leaning there, he overheard Bruce ask if Tony alright. 

Tony tried to make a joke but choked half way through. _”I don’t know. God, Bruce. I just don’t fucking know how I am right now.”_ Those words and the hoarse, wrecked voice that delivered them would stay with Steve for the rest of his life. 

Helpless and with no idea how to fix the friendship he’d clearly broken by nearly literally fucking Tony to death, Steve gave him the distance he wanted. 

Even all these months later it shamed him that while Tony lay sleeping in his arms – blood pooling around his heart, slowly stifling the delicate organ – while Tony lay dying in his arms, his last waking thought was disgracefully fickle. He had lain there, petting Tony’s messy black hair, worrying that in the morning, Tony would give him his devil-may-care smile and say something like: “You’re a great lay, Star Spangled Rainbow. We should do this at least once a week.”

It never occurred to him that the shameless playboy might have never been with another man before him – that jumping straight from kissing his neck to penetrative sex was a callous way to treat any lover, especially one that he wanted a hell of a lot more with than a one night stand.

Not that Tony would have put up with hearts and flowers. Steve smiled to himself wistfully as the pencil in his hand kept sliding over the page of his sketch. 

Hard-souled with equal fires of brilliance and loyalty: yeah, scrawny Steve Rogers had always had a type. He remembered Peggy’s brutal effectiveness, her tough-as-nails-take-no-prisoners chin, the cross-me-and-I’ll-shoot-you-three-times-in-your-untested-shield temper all of that wrapped up in a beautiful woman made his heart sing 70 some odd years ago.

Tony’s screw-covert-announcing-I-AM-IRONMAN-at-a-press-conference style caught his eye, but his crazy, mile-a-minute mouth and soft eyes didn’t make Steve the same sweet adoration. Every peek under that smartass armor Tony built long before he made the suit made him pine. Tony made him hurt with a longing so deep and so profoundly vital that it scared him.

Thor laughed loudly across the room and slapped Clint’s shoulder in congratulations for his victory – snapping Steve out of his bittersweet thoughts. He focused on his sketch again and sighed. Lost in his thoughts, he’d sketched Iron Man lounging across several rooftops. He was grossly out of proportion with the scale of the buildings like a King Kong film poster. His booted leg dangled halfway to the street as he lazily toyed with a cloud.

The feckless sprawl and casual boredom were all too familiar, and Steve swallowed hard at the renewed pang in his chest.  
Another cheer came from Thor. Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose, frustrated with himself for not doing a better job of letting his go.

“Captain!” Thor called; crossing the room with Clint hugged under one arm. “We are meeting the Man of Iron and Doctor Banner for lunch. Join us!”

Another long meal with Tony very carefully looking anywhere but Steve in full charm and flirt mode with Bruce giving them both uncomfortable looks?

“No, thanks. I want to finish this sketch," Steve answered, trying to keep any of his frustration out of his tone.

Clint’s eyes looked past him to the sketchpad and narrowed for less than a second. He jerked his head toward the door. “Sure thing, Steve. See you at the party.”

Embarrassed to have his lovesickness so visible and so kindly ignored, Steve smiled at them and waved as Clint steered the larger man toward the door. No one talked about it, but everyone on the team had at least worked out that Steve had a thing for Tony and Tony wanted no part of it. They’d been nice about it – carefully not asking, but each privately spending time with him. They didn’t ask but made it clear that if he needed to, he had someone to talk to about it. The trouble was he did need to talk about it – just not with them. He needed to say his piece and get his heart properly broken so he could let this go.

After those first silent weeks, Steve tried to talk to Tony. He tried to settle this and make it clear that he still wanted to be friends – could just be friends, but Tony bolted. Sometimes he’d just slip into his suit pretending he couldn’t hear a word Steve said and make some lame excuse about craving a real Chicago hot dog or needing to finish a test flight. Every time in the long months that followed, he practically ran out of the room like Steve was going to jump him if he got too close.

Steve didn’t try when they were training or fighting. He was a professional first and the team leader second. Even if they couldn’t sort out their personal life, it was his responsibility to let Tony know that whatever happened between them would not affect the team. They could talk on a mission or while training. Not about what happened, not about anything remotely related to what happened, but it was nice to have even that much of what they’d lost back between them. On the worst days, Tony’s teasing about getting soaked in DoomBot hydraulic fluid or his quips about their latest opponent were all that kept Steve from complete misery.

 _”See you at the party.”_ He remembered Clint’s goodbye with jarring clarity. Damn.

Today was the one year anniversary of the Chitauri invasion – the Avenger’s anniversary, and Tony was throwing a party in their honor– which meant Miss Potts was throwing a party, and Tony would waltz in about an hour late with a dame on each arm. Steve gritted his teeth because it was not sexist to call those women dames. A parade of models, actresses, and socialites sidled out of Tony’s rooms nearly every morning in varying stages of undress. There were no second night stands, and more than one of them hit on Steve or Thor or Clint on their way out.

Steve sat his pencil down before he accidentally snapped another one and took a slow breath. He had no right to be jealous or resent Tony’s bold return to the playboy lifestyle. He figured it was Tony’s way of telling him that night was a mistake without actually having to tell him to his face. Given that Tony’s revolving harem was entirely female, Steve suspected that it wasn’t just him that had the fearless inventor running for cover. He suspected that he was one of – if not the first male lover Tony ever had. 

Damned if that didn’t coil something dark and possessive in his gut.

He dreamed of how they could be together. Night after night if he wasn’t freezing and choking in blue-black water, he was making love to Tony slowly, carefully – the way he should have the first time.

Steve looked down at his sketch as he heard muffled voices in the hall. Thor was probably inviting Natasha to go with them to lunch. 

Part of Steve wanted to go with them. He wanted to ride in the backseat with Natasha, pump elbows with Tony like the used to before it all went to hell – just be with this team without this monstrous presence hanging over them.

Maybe Tony didn’t want to talk about it, but Steve needed to clear the air. With renewed determination, he picked up his sketchbook and headed for his room.

A letter might be old fashioned in an era of 160 character text messages and instantly delivered emails, but he figured Tony couldn’t just hit delete and forget he’d ever seen it. He’d have to touch a real letter – even just to wad it up – and being one of the most desperately curious people Steve ever met, Tony would have to look.

As he sat the sketchbook on the corner of his wide drafting desk, Steve let his eyes linger on the rough sketch of Tony in repose. Even if he could never have more, he desperately wanted their friendship back.

Resolute, he sat down and set a blank sheet of stationery on the center of the desk. One draft – one last try to make things right – if Tony ignored it, then Steve would give in and step the rest of the way back. He’d be the team leader, friends with the other Avengers, but he’d respect Tony’s wishes and leave him alone.

The empty paper waited while he tried to outline what he wanted to say and how to say it. As he uncapped his pen and started writing, he grimly compared the starched white sheet to a bandage soaking up the blood of a wound that would never really heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it just keeps growing. The next chapter is half done and - I swear - a lot more fun. 
> 
> No, happy endings yet.
> 
> Love & Rockets!


	5. Best Party Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first anniversary of the Avengers party is awesome. Tony is having a great time. Of course, Steve should know that. He's probably watching Tony the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my attempt at writing from the point of view of a buzzed Tony Stark who progressively gets more drunk. There are sentence fragments and other crimes against the English language. 
> 
> Apologies.

A guy was stuck in the chandelier. 

Officially: the best part of Tony’s life. 

That poor, terrified moron drunkenly bet Thor couldn’t toss him up there one handed. He’d puked on the way up – which was nasty, but still – Man. In. Chandelier. Awesome.

Tony used the excuse to break out the latest iteration of his suit – wowing the jaded SHIELD agents in attendance with the newest, most compact portable version yet. 

That was awesome point #2. Pepper didn’t invited the trustfunders or corporate shmoozers; the Stark Industries ballroom was packed with deadly, deadly SHIELD-a-trons who were thoroughly getting absolutely shit-faced and partying like only crazy danger junkies could.

There were intricate drinking games, loud — probably mostly classified — stories being told with broad gestures and knife demonstrations. Nick Fury was on one of the balconies, sipping old scotch and smoking a cigar. Clint sat beside him like his own personal Robin Hood – flicking toothpicks into various drinks and butts around the room. At least four people caught the things midflight. Natasha had at least a dozen stuck in her neat little bun. She was playing a shots game with Hill and 6 other agents. 

As Tony carried Agent Chandelier — that was so his nickname now — down, he saw her catch another and add it to the bun with a little smile.

On habit, he scanned the room, deciding to stay in the suit in case somebody got knife happy or gun happy or blew something up. With this crowd and an open bar, who knew?

Bruce and Pepper were at one corner of the bar, sipping drinks and staying clear of the worst of the craziness. Coulson played bartender with a couple other guys, but Agent Agent did it with flare. Tony was going to call him Agent Cocktail for a while. 

Steve was surrounded, laughing at someone’s story and just making that guy’s night.

Their eyes met as Tony touched down with Agent Chandelier, and Tony looked quickly down at the guy. “Don’t make bets with Thor, Agent Chandelier. He’s far too awesome to lose.”

A couple of other agents took custody of the shaken drunk, swaying a little less than he did as they lead him to a table nearby.

Thor shouted for Tony as he barreled over – saving Tony from Steve, who would be making a beeline to have ‘the Talk’ any minute. The tall Asgardian slung an arm around the suit’s bulky shoulders. “Man of Iron! Come tell us again of your defeat of Vanko! The Machine of War has claimed you tell it best!”

Tony followed Thor’s lead gratefully. Rhodey raised his glass as they reached the table. “Some party, man.”

“Yeah!” Tony agreed, grinning. “Guy in the chandelier!”

“Couldn’t miss him,” Rhodey deadpanned.

Thor snorted, taking a quick drink of his beer. “He was foolish to challenge my strength.”

“Oh, yeah,” Rhodey laughed. “Man, I am never taking you on.”

Finishing his beer, Thor shook his head. He slapped Rhodey’s shoulder hard enough to make him rock forward. “Do not be hasty. I welcome a contest against your great armor.”

Only wincing a little, Rhodey chuckled, but gave Tony a look. Tony ignored it like he’d being ignoring it for months. Rhodey was his best friend. He was supposed to have Tony’s back. He was not supposed to tell Tony that the best course of action was to have ‘the Talk’ with Steve. That was horrible advice. To preserve Rhodey’s dignity, Tony disregarded such terrible guidance to save him from the inevitable ‘I told you that was a dumb plan’ that would shortly follow the implosion of Tony’s life.

Someone moved behind him, and Tony braced for Steve’s predictable attempt to initiate ‘the Talk.’

“Coulson is about to make some flaming drinks. Namely his specialty: the Adios Motherfucker 151. Thor, want to try it?” Natasha asked, leaning over Tony’s shoulder with a smug smile.

“What is in this flaming drink?” Thor asked, already getting to his feet. “This I must try. When I return, Man of Iron – your tale!”

“Sure thing,” Tony promised sipping the martini Natasha had slipped onto the table by his elbow. It probably wasn’t poisoned. 

Thor’s laugh carried around the room as he steadied more than a couple people on his way to the bar. 

“How is that chair even holding up you?” Rhodey asked around the rim of his glass, eyeing the folding chair with concern.

“It’s not. I locked the knees.” Tony sipped a little more of the very well made martini. He frowned at the dusky brown of his dirty drink. Damn, Agent Agent had chops behind the bar. Who knew? “Technically, I’m sitting on the suit.”

“Huh. Cool,” Rhodey shrugged. He was so noncommittal that Tony actually took mild offense.

“It is actually. You know what a pain it is to sit down in these things. Chairs break, benches dent. It’s the floor or nothing.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey agreed in that same offhand tone. He just stared at Tony for a minute, taking in the tension. With a very careful tone, he added, “He’s not coming over.”

“Who?” Tony asked just a little too innocently. He wasn’t going to have ‘the Talk’, and at this awesome party, he was not going to talk about ‘the Talk.’ Period. Colon END. Full Stop.

Rhodey gave the ‘who do you think’ look that deserved anyway because he was being a terrible friend. “He hasn’t even looked over since you sat on your suit.”

“Oh.” Tony drained the martini. “Good.”

That thought put him in motion. He was Tony Stark; nobody ignored him. That Steve was ignoring him now, however, was a good thing and did not bother him at all. “Come on. Let’s go watch Thor singe his eyebrows!”

With a sigh, Rhodey got up and kept pace as the armor thunked across the room. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Him, leaving you alone?”

Tony sighed. It was a burden sometimes – teaching Rhodey how to have a good time. “Party. Flaming liquor and possibly flaming blond god-hair. Alien Metabolism versus Jose, Jack, Jim & Patron – or whoever’s in that fiery death drink. Keep up Rhodey Rhodes.”

“Don’t call me that,” Rhodey grunted, giving up. He knew Tony was too stubborn to browbeat. He knew how to let things go – unlike the Star Spangled Stalker.

*****

Four hours, two relatively small fires, and a brawl that Fury broke up just by getting to his feet – later, Tony was down in his workshop with a blood alcohol that had to be record setting. 

That party was epic.

Beyond epic.

Probably classified, but damn, they were doing it again next year – next week if Tony could think up a reason Fury would accept. He could do that. He could totally think up a reason. He would later, after he finished reveling in the awesomeness of the party.

Tony gulped a glass of bourbon, neat. He’d had a blast, drank with a god, and flew a guy down from the goddamed chandelier! He should be running on that high, telling JARVIS – who’d seen the whole thing on camera – all about it.

Instead, he sat on the floor in his wrinkled suit with IronMan boots still on, tinkering with You’s loose wheel while Dummy hovered nearby. Misery and irritation chased every sip of bourbon.

Steve joined a drinking game with Thor and earned an eternal man-crush from a god because he damn near out drank him. Tony blinked in confusion, but quickly got the syntax right: Steve out drinking Thor. Thor being impressed with out drinking himself made no sense.

Then, Steve danced with Pepper – who giggled the whole time – then Natasha, then Hill, then every damn female agent with the guts to ask – which you know … SHIELD – so they all asked.

Tony didn’t know the Agent playing DJ, but he ended the night with two ties on his head playing ‘Fat Bottomed Girls.’ The original. By Queen. No cover crap. This made him alright in Tony’s book. Agent DJ was a good man.

Then? Steve said hi. Actually, Steve just waltzed over between waltzes or whatever the hell he was doing with every woman in the room. Just: “You throw one wild party, Stark,” a friendly pat on the shoulder plate and then he was leading female agent #16 onto the dance floor.

No meaningful looks, no lip biting, no apologetic “I need to borrow Tony for a minute.”

That was fine. That was great. Tony was okay with that. He briefly thought of his dates the last few months. That was totally the same thing. He’d played the field again to get Steve to back off. Same thing. Totally cool.

Tony carefully refilled his glass. He glanced at the door. JARVIS had the workshop in lockdown. The overrides were offline. When he first came down there, Tony had unplugged the pneumatics from the door and scooted the couch across the room to barricade the door. Yes, it was a sliding, glass door, but it was the visual Tony wanted.

“Do. Not. Disturb!” He hissed, waving his glass and a screwdriver – no a small wrench – menacingly at the empty hall beyond the door.

“Quite, sir.” JARVIS chirped snidely. “There is a note for you on your worktable.”

“A note?” Tony asked, looking around. He finally found the worktable, hovering miles from where he thought he’d left it. “What note?”

“The one laying the worktable’s surface, sir.” JARVIS was a snide, snarky guy. Tony loved that best about him.

“Who left me a note?” Who writes notes? Why print the email?

JARVIS hesitated briefly. “Captain Rogers left it there before the party, sir.”

“Well, no.” Tony shook his head, pursing his lips. “Nope. We are not having ‘the Talk’ by proxy.”

JARVIS did not respond to that.

“Oh, you’re gonna spend more time not talking to me about it?” Tony asked gloomily. JARVIS pretended to be on his side. He warned Tony when Steve was heading down or calling or whatever sneaky tactic the soldier was playing, but JARVIS never commented, never counseled Tony – which was pretty annoying. Tony could feel the censure. He knew JARVIS was just dying to tell him what to do, and waiting for the damn AI to actually start nagging was starting to tick him off.

“My advice would be unwelcome.”

Wanting the nagging over with before it even started, Tony waved at his old friend. “You don’t know ‘til you try. Hit me, JARVIS. Anything beats ‘talk about your feelings.”

JARVIS didn’t respond right away, which was fine. Tony drained his glass again. “Perhaps, it would be better to let Captain Rogers discuss his feelings. I believe he feels that he has harmed you.”

Tony moaned, dropping his head back. “Bruce explained it to him.”

“And the Captain couldn’t possibly infer that you blame him yourself.”

“You just abused sarcasm. Did you know that? I should report you to the Sarcasm Services,” Tony growled. He poked at the now fixed wheel and considered mini-thrusters, but the image of prying You off the ceiling with Dummy’s help kind of killed that dream. 

Steve would totally be the guy to guilt trip over that whole mess with Tony’s stupid magnetic shielding test setup. “He knows I don’t blame him.”

“With respect, sir, how does he know that?”

“Cause he’s still Captain America!” Tony shouted at the discreetly placed speakers in the ceiling. “If he thought I had trust issues with him, he’d have grounded me or – I don’t know – trust exercises or whatever to make sure we could work together. Cause his team comes first! He didn’t. He just went right back to work like nothing happened!”

Steve had done that. He’d just been professional and calm and so normal in the field that it made Tony want to scream. So he did that now, loudly. He also threw his wrench across the room. 

JARVIS didn’t comment on either action. “And why would he continue his attempts to speak to you privately if that was the case?”

“That is the case!” Tony snapped, jumping unsteadily to his feet. The world swayed and pitched like a ship roiling in a storm. You and Dummy steadied him, and he gripped their cool, familiar arms. He took a deep breath. This was fine. This was his thing. Human interactions were nuanced. He needed to explain this to JARVIS. He had to explain this kind of thing. It was important to help JARVIS learn. “He’s the nicest guy on the planet, JARVIS. I spent half the night telling him how hopelessly in love with him I am. He’s trying to do the right thing and let me down easy.”

“But sir, Captain Rogers also confessed his feelings once you were in the workshop.”

Tony staggered away from You and Dummy to lean on the worktable. “He’s a cuddler! Cuddlers do that! They snuggled you, and, you know, rub their nose on your neck." God, Tony could almost feel Steve nuzzling him again. 

"They just say things! It’s bedroom talk. I could have been anybody.” Tony whispered the last sentence into the table as he laid his forehead on its cold surface. “I could have been any body tied up and just utterly destroyed in Testing Room 1.”

“Given current data collected on Avenger interactions, I calculate less than an 8% probability that Captain Rogers would have propositioned any of the other Avengers in a similar hypothetical situation.”

Snorting, Tony shoved everything on the table surface to the floor so he could crawl on to it. “And, disregarding all data collected after that — that night, what were the odds he’d have propositioned me?”

JARVIS didn’t answer, and Tony sighed, watching his breath condense in a fog and vanish off the table. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need pity from his own damn AI. He needed another drink and to layout specs for a mini bow thing for Clint. That whole toothpick-thing-of-death thing inspired him.

He crawled off the other side of the table and laughed when he realized that he’d forgotten about the boots. They jerked his feet to the floor loud and hard. He was mostly upright when JARVIS finally answered his question. “33%, sir.”

“Huh?” Tony played dumb. This was worse. JARVIS was fudging the math to make him feel better. Was there a more pathetic geek level below having your amazing artificial intelligence friend lie about mathematics to make you feel better? Tony didn’t think there was.

“Based on your previous interactions with Captain Rogers using security footage, given his pupil dilation and respiration when in close contact with you as well as – “

“Cancel explanation,” Tony barked, turning the worktable’s volumetric display on manually. He did not want to hear a blow-by-blow of how JARVIS managed to play with logic to make that a rational conclusion; hearing that was the pathetic geek level below the last one. “Let’s just work, okay?”

“Of course, sir.” JARVIS replied, dropping the whole mess. 

Tired, drunk, and just shy of miserable, Tony focused on the mini bow in his head. He could make that. He could make that in his head and then make it happen in reality. That was what he was great at – that was what he could do and not screw up. People were messy, confusing, and nothing with people every really worked in the world like it did in his head, but this – Tony traced a preliminary design with his finger on the table top – this he could imagine and create. This he could control.

Refreshed with the thrill of inventing, Tony leaned and set to work. This he could get right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference: the Adios Motherfucker 151 drink is here: http://www.drinknation.com/theme/Flaming . I googled it. I have never tried it and thus cannot endorse its awesomeness or lack thereof.
> 
> Also, I promise to fix all this - maybe.


	6. Everything I Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a couple days holed up in his workshop, Tony faces an unexpected change at the Tower.

Energized and exhausted, Tony crept out of his workshop a little after noon. A quick shower, coffee, and something meaty for whatever meal this was, and then he’d get back to it. Clint’s mini bow inspired changes to the wrist tasers of death for Natasha. With the mini bow now in fabrication, Tony could have the new taser model ready by dinner. 

Clint – who was going to get on his knees and worship Tony for the tiny dart shooter – was sitting on the counter beside the coffee pot just staring at Tony. 

“Wow. Trying out for the creepy awards? I can tell you’re winning.” Tony teased opening the cupboard to get a mug. 

Slamming the door shut before Tony had it more than an inch open, Clint hopped down and stepped into Tony’s space. He had a couple inches on Tony, and also – was an assassin. “What the hell did you do?”

Tony didn’t flinch at the very soft, very nasty tone. Clint yelled when he was fun-mad. He talked like this when he wanted to kill something, slowly, with a spoon arrow.

“Me?” Tony played innocent with a shrug. He couldn’t think of anything that would warrant a pissed off Artemis standing between him and his coffee, but that actually didn’t mean he wasn’t somehow involved in anything. “Been in the workshop since the party, drinking and you know making awesomeness a reality.”

All technically true, but Tony left out munching on peanuts and whining to Dummy about Steve because he was sympathetic to unrequited love. Dummy still had a picture of the Mars Lander Spirit taped to the wall next to his charging station. He got how crumby it was to not be wanted back – not like JARVIS, who was a dick.

Outside the insulating comfort of his suit, it was jarring to have Clint move with the graceful speed that made him so deadly in the field. He had a fistful of Tony’s shirt and got in his face. “Steve moved out this morning. What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?”

He spaced out the words with breathtaking but wasted menace.

“I haven’t seen him since the party!” Tony protested because hey – this? Not his fault. He held up in his hands in a gesture of surrender to mollify the very angry team elf. “I didn’t even talk to him!”

“Yeah,” Clint snarled. “We’ve all noticed that last few months of that. Suck up your goddamned homophobia. So Captain America has a crush on you, be flattered, tell him you’re not interested – nicely, and sort out your friendship because you’re an ass hole, Stark, but you’re not this kind of ass hole.”

Clint shoved him hard into the fridge and stormed out.

Tony leaned against the metal, staring after him. He played catch-up on the whole damn conversation.

Okay, yes. To anyone who didn’t know that Tony was avoiding Rogers to avoid ‘the Talk,’ it could look like Steve was trying to make a move. 

Move.

Steve moved out? He remembered the note – which JARVIS reminded him of like every hour for the last three days – which was still on the floor from him sweeping everything off the worktable. He’d ordered Dummy not to touch it. It might give him cooties.

Tony grinned a little. Yeah, drunk or sober, it was funny to see Dummy rope off the note with caution tape and safety cones because he didn’t know what cooties were, but they clearly weren’t safe.

His mind came back to the point at hand: A note. Steve left him a god damned note to say:

‘Look, that night was some great sex, but that’s it – sex. I’m sorry you have feelings about it. I’ve been trying to talk to you about this because you got all clingy and talked about being in love with me. I thought it was pillow talk, but your mini-freak-out made it pretty clear that you have a thing. I do not have a thing. Sorry. Since clearly you’re too immature to deal with this, I’m moving out on Monday. Bye, Steve’

Yeah, clearly Steve’s note would be polite and nice about the whole mess, but Tony could extrapolate. So Steve wrote him a note because Tony was a completely selfish moron who couldn’t suck it up and just let Steve clear things up between them. He wouldn’t have even had to talk really, just agreed with Steve and they’d move on. Now, he’d have to talk. He’d have to talk and say horrible things like “sorry.”

Tony shivered in revulsion. He hated saying sorry. It was like a root canal for his ego. A sudden movement across the room jerked his attention away from how much he did not want to go chase down Steve Rogers.

Natasha must have melted out of the wall because Tony did not see her when he came in, and there was no way she’d walked in past him, yet there she was watching him with her blank face of doom. She didn’t speak, just held his gaze for a long moment before opening the cabinet to get out one of the little metal tins of tea. 

“It would be hard,” She spoke softly, moving slow and precise as she opened the tin and scooped some of the tea into a saucer. Somewhere in the back of Tony’s mind, he remembered that Bruce liked loose leaf. She was probably making it for him. “Very hard, I think. To leave the first place that became familiar after being nearly dead for 70 years. Maybe harder than being ignored by one of the closest friend you’ve got for eight months.”

She looked over her shoulder as she filled the little kettle with water. “Lovers are a lot easier to get over than friends.”

Sometimes, Tony wasn’t sure if it was scarier when she talked about killing people or when she gave cryptic advice. 

Now was one of those times. He got the point though. He’d screwed up. By trying not to get hurt, he’d hurt Steve – which hurt the team – which was one of his primary goals of things to prevent from the start of the whole nasty mess. 

Natasha didn’t look at him as she sat the kettle on the stove. “Happy has the address.”

Tony nodded numbly. He kept his back straight and his chin up as he strolled to the elevator. It would be easy to pretend for the world he was furious with Steve for leaving – Captain freaking America just ran and hid. Pretending that to himself wouldn’t work. Deep down in places Tony hated to go, he knew he’d done the right thing, but he couldn’t have done it more miserably wrong.

A thing with Steve would end like this – just like this – fracturing the team and leaving Tony alone because no one was going to pick Tony Stark over Captain America, but the shitty part was that they were right to go. He pushed Steve away too hard and kept him in the dark. At some point, he should have realized that missing his friend – which had been harder than nursing a broken heart – would go both ways.

Being a good guy, Steve was probably still kicking himself over Tony getting hurt – thank you for that horrible insight JARVIS – and he was leaving now because that’s what he thought Tony wanted.

As the elevator stopped on his floor, Tony slapped a hand over his face and groaned. He had a terrible, terrible idea. “JARVIS, when did Steve leave the note?”

“One hour, forty-seven minutes before the anniversary party, sir.”

Of course, that was why Steve had relaxed and had a good time at the party. He was saying goodbye. Tony kicked the elevator door as it closed behind him.

“Damn it!” he muttered, jogging to his bathroom. He’d shower because second-day-bender-stink was not a great conversation piece and change into something sinfully tailored because he couldn’t wear jeans around Steve without the intense body memory of Steve’s hands sliding down the front of them and a hot mouth on his neck.

“JARVIS, tell Happy I’ll be down in about ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir” JARVIS answered blankly. “Shall I inform him that you’ll be traveling to Captain Rogers’ apartment?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, you smug bastard,” Tony muttered as he stripped to get in the shower. 

After a hot shower in a sleek suit, he’d get going because if he had to go tell Steve that they were fine, that he was fine, that Tony was not upset and they could go back to being pals, he was doing it as Tony God Damned Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter because there are now two more parts! If we're all very lucky, I'll manage to end it in just those two chapters.
> 
> Next Chapter: I promise smut. I do not promise happiness because I'm mean like that, but I promise smut.


	7. Everything You Never Wanted from Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony goes to fix the shit-show he's made of their friendship. If he can do that without actually having 'the Talk,' all the better. What actually happens is more than he can handle; it ruins him.

Whatever scenarios ran through Tony’s mind on the ride to Steve’s new apartment, none of them included standing in front of the drab green door for five minutes like a moron. He had no reason or excuse beyond really, really not wanting to have ‘the Talk’ with Steve.

Frustrated with himself for being a selfish idiot and a coward, Tony banged his head on the door a couple times and raised his hand to knock.

The door started opening, and Tony panicked. Okay, knocking was moot because he had knocked with his face. Steve’s face appeared with blue eyes widening a little. 

What was the plan? Tony had made a plan for his. Watching Steve’s throat work through a dry swallow kick started Tony’s memory. The plan was simple: find Steve, apologize for being a terrible friend using his words, get Steve to move back to the Tower, have ‘the Talk’ if they just had to do that, and get blind drunk in Vegas. Yeah, good plan. Plan good. Great even.

“Tony,” Steve repeated, still standing there, holding the door open for Tony to come in.  
Right. Step one: go inside.

“So,” Tony licked his lips as he crossed the threshold. “I – uh – got your note.” He decided to start this train wreck conversation in the safety-zone of ‘get Steve to move back to the Tower’ portion of the day. It would probably lead up to ‘the Talk,’ but at least it gave him a couple minutes to build up to that.

Steve kept his back to Tony as he closed the door and just stood there a minute without responding. Tony looked back and hated noticing how the pale gray t-shirt clung to those wide shoulders and bunched just a little where it tucked into his pants. God, Steve was wearing granddad pants. How could that even be sexy? He should look ridiculous with those high-waisted trousers, but he just looked good. It wasn’t fair.

Finally, Steve turned around. He didn’t say anything, just bit his lip at Tony – which again? Not fair. The taller man studied Tony as if he was trying to figure out if it was safe to attempt ‘the Talk.’ He’d been looking at Tony like this for months now. It was annoying as all hell.

“You read my letter?” Steve asked, shoving his big hands into his pockets.

Letter? Oh, crap. Terrified slightly because, no, he hadn’t technically opened the neatly hand written envelope with his name on it, and Steve had clearly expected a conversation about it.

Tony decided to fake it like a humanities final; he’d just argue defensively and get cues from Steve’s responses. “Yeah, and let me just say: that’s all bull shit,” Tony wagged a finger at Steve in full distract-the-reports mode.

His mouth snapped shut when Steve flinched. Crap. Not bullshit. Steve had written more than an extended ‘See ya!’ That meant that Tony’s original theory was right: the note was a written version of ‘the Talk.’ Taking a deep breath, he started walking around the living room. For a conversation like this he needed to pick up stuff, play with stuff, keep his hands busy, but the tiny apartment was miserably Spartan so he just roamed like a shark – if he quit swimming, he’d drown.

“Okay. Rephrasing: Moving out was bullshit. Everything else was – you know – not, but that? Slipping out in the middle of the night? Utter bullshit.”

“I didn’t ‘slip out.’ There was a very loud argument about it in the kitchen, I packed last night, and moved this morning.” Steve pointed out, but he was still on edge. Eager for Tony to just get to ‘the Talk’ part, but nervous, too.

Nervous did it. Steve was nervous because he didn’t want to deal with Tony’s unrequited crap anymore than Tony did. It was nice to know that someone else didn’t want to talk about his feelings or lack thereof.

Tony dropped on a corner of the couch in a wide sprawl. “Fine! Okay? Fine! Let’s do this!” He waved between them vaguely. Steve – sweet Boy Scout Steve – gave him a look somewhere between relief and concern, or there was a funny smell. He used that same pinched face on funny smells, like being downwind from the Hulk.

“Let’s do this?” Steve repeated slowly in the same tone Pepper used whenever Tony quit or fired everyone. He walked around the couch, but didn’t sit yet. 

“Yes. You, me, and the couch makes three. Look, I know I’ve been a little hard to talk to lately,” Tony pressed on quickly before Steve could point out that he’d been running like a preschooler avoiding naptime for eight months. “I had some things to work out on my own, you know? And I should have told you that was what I was doing so you wouldn’t take a cruise on the good ship Guilt-Trip, but I didn’t. I’m a jerk. I’m sorry.” Feeling a little better and thrilled that this could count as ‘the Talk,’ Tony beamed up at Steve with a bright smile. “See? Done. We talked. Let’s get your stuff and go home.”

Steve sat very carefully on the opposite end of the small couch. Thanks to Tony’s sprawl, they were half a cushion apart. “What did you work out?”

Damn it. Apparently, Steve remained the Zen master of ‘not letting things go’ and also remained determined to have ‘the Talk’ in full – wherein they spell out how that night was just great, fantastic sex and Steve did not – does not – share Tony’s unrequited thing – thus it remained unrequited.

“I – um – ,” Tony floundered. He’d worked out that he was infatuated with Captain Steve Rogers America and really did not want to be given a ‘just friends’ speech, but also knew that in the hand full of months before all this started, they’d become friends. That friendship was important to him, to both of them, and even if it was hell itself, Tony didn’t want to lose that. Taking a breath and dropping his head back on the cushion, Tony rolled his shoulders. He needed an angle for this.

“Your note – ah – letter. The stuff in it – not the moving out stuff because – again? Bullshit. The Tower isn’t mine anymore. It’s the team’s. It’s your home as much as it is mine, and don’t ever let me being dickish chase you out of it again.” Tony swallowed at the ripcord tension in Steve now. He stayed in his lounged position, looking relaxed and fine because Steve had him in the cross hairs of his intense Steve-focus. This lie, this one little lie, had to be perfect, and they’d go back to teammates and friends and nothing else. “I’m saying I feel the same way about it.”

Indulging his own cowardice a little, Tony stared at Steve’s collarbone when he lied. While he had a magnificent poker face, Steve had an innate bullshit detector, and he couldn’t afford to get this bluff called. Worse, it hurt. Just saying that - hearing himself say that every feeling that filled him up when Steve smiled at him wasn’t real - ached deep and hard.

Steve reached over, touching the hand that draped over the back of the couch. “Tony? Are you sure?”

“Yep,” Tony made himself look up; hoping Steve mistook the hurt that was just boiling out of him for awkward morning-8-months-after awkwardness. He expected relief or suspicion, not the open, eager wonder that filled Steve’s face. It was nice on some level that Steve was so happy to be his friend, to stay his friend. It burned that he was so clearly happy to hear that ever desperate, true thing he’d wrung out of Tony down in Testing Room One was just bedroom talk. This was worse than talking about feelings; this was having them set on fire and thrown away.

Tony sucked in a shaky breath and started to push off the couch. He’d get Steve home, play happy-homemaker-teammates for a while, and then cry off on a business trip by way of Vegas. Vegas always loved him back.

His butt made it maybe half an inch off the cushion when Steve hit him. The solid, full body impact registered vaguely in the back of his mind because Steve had his face in both hands and was currently trying to lick his way to Tony’s brain through his mouth.

Screw it.

Screw everything.

Tony had no idea what was going on in Rogers’ head, but damned if he was giving up any chance at round two. He wanted Steve so badly that he'd take whatever he could get, but kissing like this was too intense, too intimate for him not to choke on the ache in his chest. He turned his head to start biting his way along Steve’s jaw. A shudder and moan made Tony smile against the hot skin. It was gratifying to know that Steve liked being bitten as much as he liked to bite.

Steve tilted his head back, urging Tony to bite down his neck as his hands roamed down Tony’s sides and gripped his hips. He squeezed hard and pushed a knee between Tony’s thighs. They both groaned as they ground together on each other. 

Burrowing against his neck and shoulder, Steve sucked and bit the skin along his collarbone. They moved together in a slow rhythm, working against each other with eight months of lust driving them.

“God, Tony!” Steve hissed, his hands pushing under Tony’s butt to get a very firm grip. “You’re amazing. You feel amazing,” he reared back, pulling Tony with him using his incredible strength. Tony shivered at the growl against his throat as he pushed Steve back against the other arm of the couch. The change in position lined up their hips perfectly. Steve used his grip to grind Tony down against him and even with the hard lines of their zippers between them, it felt awesome.

Tony panted, blinking blindly as they rutted together. He could handle being Steve’s Olympic-Style-Stunt-Fuck-Buddy. That Tony could work with. He wrapped an arm around Steve’s neck to hang on and pushed his other hand between them to work on Steve’s belt and zipper.

Last time, Steve has him tied up and helpless. While Tony has no complaints at all, he was determined to show Rogers that Tony Stark could give as good as he got.

He had Steve’s pants half open and had just started teasing him through his boxers when Steve tensed. 

Damn. Tony drew back a little and hoped he looked lust-desperate not lovesick. “Too fast?”

Steve smiled at him loosely and traced Tony’s face with his fingers. He grabbed the wrist of the hand that had been petting him a minute ago and raised it to his lips, kissing the inside of Tony’s wrist with just a hint of teeth. “I want to do this right, Tony.”

“We’re not doing it wrong,” Tony pointed out lasciviously. He hoped Steve attributed his rough voice to being horny instead of having a vise-like thing wringing out his insides because of the sweet, loving expression on Steve’s face.

Steve kissed the middle of his palm with a smile and just held Tony’s hand over his mouth for a second. Then, he relaxed underneath Tony and traced a thumb over his lips. “Last time, I kind of charged in.”

Tony managed to force a grin and dirty snicker. “Yeah, you stormed my fortress. I’m totally okay with going fast.” He did not want to talk. He could get through this - have this - if they could do it without talking.

Steve laughed with that stupid happy smile that just burned Tony inside.

To make certain that Steve got the message about this being sex-not-love for Tony, he dipped his head and with his teeth, caught the thumb that was still rubbing his lips. Maintaining eye contact, he bit down and ran his tongue, wet and dirty, around the blunt edge of the short nail and then down the flat pad to tease the fold of his knuckle.

Growling low in his throat, Steve put his other hand on the back of Tony’s neck and pulled, but Tony didn’t give in. He couldn’t handle kissing Steve. It was too tender. It would make being just fuckbuddies too hard; instead, he opened his mouth and started sliding it up and down Steve’s thumb. It was an obscene display, fucking his own mouth with Steve’s hand.

The tiny lift and roll of Steve’s hips under his own was very flattering.

Steve shifted again. He used his strength to manhandle Tony - which was the best possible use of his abilities, tucking him into the corner where the cushions met the back of the couch. The wide shouldered man scooted over and turned on his side to keep from falling off. Then, he leaned over – filling up every inch of room to trap Tony in that tight space. His blue eyes were heavy lidded as he spread his fingers on Tony’s cheek and started moving his thumb in and out of Tony’s mouth. 

It was ridiculously hot. Steve slowly finger-fucked Tony’s mouth with his thumb. The smooth, uncalloused pad stroked the hard palate on the roof of his mouth in a slow, sensuous pace. Breathing hard, Steve curled a little closer with his other hand curled around the back of Tony’s neck. 

Steve’s hand stilled. His smile softened, and he kissed Tony’s forehead as he slid his thumb out of the wet, used mouth. His hungry blue eyes followed his thumb as he traced Tony’s lips, painting them with saliva in a pantomime of a porn-worthy blowjob.

Tony worked his jaw and turned his head back and forth, chasing the wandering thumb. “I could do this all day,” Steve whispered in a husky voice. He moved his hand down over Tony’s throat and lightly touched their lips. He teased with little nudged and slow licks, drawing out Tony’s tongue to lightly brush and shallowly kiss. They stayed like that, just barely kissing with Steve’s hands literally around Tony’s neck.

Only this little space between them existed in the universe, where Steve had held his head still and just owned his mouth. 

Tony felt owned - owned and possessed and wanted. He’d never played power games in bed before – never needed or wanted to control someone else, but he’d also never considered the other side of that coin. Being like this – being besieged like this – like all Steve wanted to do was conquer him, stripped him of every scrap of armor he’d built to keep Tony in and the world out, but Steve didn’t want inside his armor. Steve wanted another round of great sex, cuddling, and the buddy-life. As his heart broke, Tony whimpered helpless and hopeless. 

Steve mistook the sound for a different kind of want and turned his head, making the kiss deeper, making Tony tremble with the hunger and tenderness as his tongue took over where his thumb left off.

Tony clenched one fist in Steve’s shirt and the other in the back of the couch. He thought he could do this. He thought he could just do this hot-sex thing with Steve and ignore the messy thing in his chest that was currently trying to crush the arc reactor. That thing wouldn’t let him do this – not like this. Steve trembled a little himself, taut and shaky like he was holding back just to hang on to this intimacy, this moment with Tony, but he didn't. He didn't want Tony for anything but a warm body and good time.

The hungry thing inside Tony that claimed to be love howled, and Tony jerked his head sharply to the side, away from the devouring kiss, gulping in air. 

Some people liked casual sex this way – pretending they were making love without the messy emotional baggage afterward. Hell, Tony had played that game a time or two. It was never a big deal because the sex had always been amazing, and everybody went in without feelings attached.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to unclench his fists as Steve nuzzled his neck. “Shh,” Steve’s hand on the front of his throat eased down to rub his chest just over the arc reactor. He kissed Tony’s temple, then just beside his eye. “Easy. We can go as slow as you want, Tony.”

A laugh bubbled out of Tony harsh and just a breath away from a sob. “No,” he swallowed hard. “No, I can’t do this with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're cruel and you know it clap your hands. *clap clap*
> 
> I am sorry. I am very sorry. I might fix it. I might not. Every time I try to write my way out, the angst just drags me back down.


	8. The End of All We Were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve left the Tower, and Tony follows to bring him back. Will they be able to salvage anything from their ruined friendship or is this the end?

_"I can’t do this with you."_

He couldn't. Tony bit his tongue and just barely held himself together. A night of honeymoon-pretend with Steve would haunt him. He had enough demons taunting him in what little sleep he could get; one more - this one - would drive him so deep into a bottle he'd never come back out.

A little pale, Steve rose up on his elbow and frowned down at Tony. "You said - "

"I lied!" Tony barked defensively, pushing to get up, to get out. He couldn't face Steve right now. Later, when his mouth wasn't wet from Steve playing with him and kissing him, Tony would put on his plastic smile and manipulate Steve into returning to the Tower. Now, he needed to be home where he could drink and pretend that JARVIS's voice drowned everything else out. Steve didn't budge over. "I thought I could, but I can't! Yes, it was amazing sex, but I can't handle this - this romantic crap! Alright? I can't."

Tony pushed at Steve against, carefully not looking to see inevitable pity or just unconcerned disappointment on his face. He squirmed and shuffled against the back of the couch, but couldn't get any leverage to climb out of the little space there.

A shallow, sharp gasp drew his eyes up to Steve's face, and Tony forgot about climbing off the couch. Steve's blue eyes were wide and wet; his lips were kiss-bruised and pinched tightly. He looked devastated. Confused and tired of running away, Tony rubbed a hand over his own face, letting it hide his eyes. "I meant every damn word I said that night, and I can't just pretend I don't when you want to screw around."

"What?" Steve asked in his hard Captain America voice. He pulled Tony's hand away from his eyes, and leaned in close. "What are you talking about?"

Months of training and more than a dozen near-death missions made that tone Pavlov's bell. Tony needed to answer that tone quickly, efficiently. He couldn't help the response and part of him was grateful for that. "I have a thing for you, okay? You don't feel the same, and that's fine. Consider me let down gently, but I can't be fuck buddies. I just can't - " Tony closed his eyes for an instant, still rambling, justifying and rehashing the confessions he'd bleated out while Steve moved in and out of his body.

The relief at finally actually saying that - even knowing what would follow -pulled something loose inside him. It hurt and burned, but he was relieved because now maybe he could start putting himself back together - like rebuilding an engine after a gear broke. Replace the other parts that were damaged by the break, reforge the gear, and make it work again.

Tony sucked in a breath, and grabbed the middle of the back of the couch to pull himself up.

A sharp, bright laugh chilled him to his bones. Tony's brown eyes snapped open with the temper and surprise. Steve was smiling down at him, laughing at him. Captain Asshole ruffled his hair like he would Clint's after a good sparring session.

Oh, fuck you, buddy. Tony thought and glared at Steve and shoved against his chest hard. It was one thing not to have a mutual thing - Tony could understand that, but laughing at him for feeling this way was cruel. He was leaving before he gave in to temptation and called the suit to take Mr. Super Soldier up on his offer from the day they'd met: a few rounds against IronMan would stop that god damned smile.

"You're such a spiv, Tony," Steve laughed, catching Tony's shoulder and not letting him get up. Tony smacked away Steve's hands before the other man sobered and trapped him in the dip of the couch again. "Hey, stop. Just - " Steve squeezed the wrists he'd pinned to Tony's chest. "You didn't read my letter did you?"

"No, but what the hell does that have to do with anything? And what the hell's a spiv?" Tony hissed, kicking viciously until Steve pinned his legs too. He was cornered and pissed off; Steve Rogers was about to find out why people never cornered Tony.

"It's a con man," Steve looked him straight in the eye. "And my letter said that I have a thing for you, too."

The plan to rack Steve, punch him in the throat, and call the suit to destroy the crappy apartment fragmented. Tony's jaw worked as he silently repeated what Steve said. No, he wasn't hearing this right. Steve let go of his wrists and wrapped an arm back around his neck, taking up all the space over Tony again. "I told you that if you didn't feel the same, we could just be friends, but you had to tell me that was what you wanted - otherwise - I'd assume that I hurt you too much that night, and you couldn't be my friend. So I stepped back from your personal life - moved out of the Tower, but when I opened the door - "

"Your letter said you have a thing for me?" Tony interrupted. It was an echo of Steve's statement because he was still that far back in the conversation. His brain couldn't seem to handle this; which was ridiculous because he was a genius, and he'd come up with brilliant examples of that genius later when he could process anything beyond 'Steve said he has a thing for me.'

Steve nodded his head, dipping down to kiss Tony's lips lightly.

"All these months?" Tony asked, blinking. Looking back it was obvious. Steve's meaningful looks weren't pity or compassion; he'd been mooning over Tony. That was why he never tried to Talk in uniform - Steve wouldn't use his position as leader as leverage to get in someone's pants. Oh Damn.

"I've been trying to get five minutes alone with you to tell you this and get my heartbroken. We're both morons." Steve blinked slowly, but his eyes were heavy lidded when they opened.

"Yeah," Tony's lips curled into a smile. He knew he looked smug and stupid with this big smile, but he was also embarrassed, thrilled, and completely out of his depth. His mind replayed everything Steve had said and done since he entered the apartment - now in the context of 'Steve has a thing.' Being kissed and taken apart the way Steve had just a minute ago still overwhelmed him, but in a different way. The longer Steve wasn't kissing him and distracting him, the more uncomfortable he felt: enjoying being pinned by another man, actually that was fine. It was thinking about being uncomfortable about enjoying it that was starting to make him nervous. Tony hated being nervous. He couldn't shut up when he got nervous.

He didn't realize he was rambling until Steve put his thumb on Tony's lips with a smile of his own.

"Tony? I like when you babble." Steve sighed and pushed his thigh between Tony's. "But I like it best when I'm inside you."

Tony whimpered as the hint of friction, but Steve didn't go further - just kissing and cuddling on the couch.

After a few quiet minutes, Tony took a deep breath and looked at Steve's chin as he spoke. "In the interest of disclosure, my playboy reputation is not in any way exaggerated. Honestly, it's downplayed most of the time, but this is new."

Steve kissed beside Tony's nose with his eyes closed. "I'm okay with that. We'll go slow. If you're uncomfortable with something, just tell me."

"I'm not saying treat me like a virgin, Steve," Tony growled, but there wasn't any temper in his tone. He looked up into Steve's eyes with just a hint of his nerves showing.

"I'm not saying I will," Steve smiled. He brought one hand up to hold Tony's jaw. "I'm saying: I was new to this once, too. Sometimes things go too fast or too far. Don't let me push you anywhere you don't want to go."

Tony made a noise that clearly meant 'as if,' and turned his face against Steve's palm to kiss the edge just below his thumb. "You're telling me how Captain America became a sex god later."

"Much later," Steve promised, taking a long, deep kiss. "Right now's just for us."

Tony hummed low in his throat and strained up to get back to kissing. Kissing he was amazing at - Pepper teased that it almost made up for what his mouth did the rest of the time. Steve's hand slid over his throat again as he changed the angle of their kiss, and Tony's lost any semblance of thought.

The kiss grew lighter, more tender than hungry, and Steve's hand slid lower, opening the buttons of Tony's tailored vest and shirt.

By the time he had them completely undone, Steve had moved the kiss to duck and nibble on Tony's jaw.

Tony shivered when a wide hand smoothed the t-shirt he wore under his suit. Steve nudged Tony's jaw to the side with his cheek and kissed the pulse point below his ear.

Letting out a shaky breath, Tony fumbled with Steve's t-shirt. Mostly he just made a fist in it, tugged, let go, and grabbed another handful uselessly as Steve sucked on his throat and slowly pulled the hem of his shirt out of his pants.

Steve came up for air, breathing deep and quick against Tony's cheek. He pecked a quick kissed there and pulled dress shirt up. Tony lifted his arms obligingly and shivered as Steve pushed the dress shirt, vest, and jacket up. The jacket and vest came easily, but the cuffs were still buttoned.

Tony squirmed a bit. Steve tensed and groaned; staring at Tony with his arms stretched overhead, wrists bound up in the tight cuffs. He ran his hands up Tony's arms reverently and shifted to grind against one of Tony's thighs.

"That's really a button for you, huh?" Tony teased, crossing his wrists just to watch Steve's eyes follow the movement with rapt attention.

"With you it is," Steve said roughly. He ran his hands back down the trapped arms and eased his hips back in a conscious withdrawal. "Next time, we'll experiment."

"Oh, I love experiments!" Tony laughed, feeling the comfortable power of knowing his lover was edging toward desperate. For a moment, the confidence he'd always known in bed returned. He rolled his hips to tease Steve with just the promise of friction and arched his back.

Steve shuddered and responded quickly by grabbing Tony's hips and grinding their hips together roughly. He stopped after just a few seconds and reached up to work Tony's wrists free. "You keep that up and this'll be over pretty damn quick."

"You say that like it's bad thing." Tony helped shift the tight material and work the cuff links out. Steve tossed his shirt away and gathered him close again. "I promise we can do it again later."

Growling in frustration, Steve shifted his weight to one knee and pulled Tony completely beneath him. When he settled on top of the smaller man, he kept his weight on his forearms, braced on either side of Tony's head. He lined up their hips and pressed down to make sure Tony felt how hard he was, how close he was. "I've been fantasizing about this for months, Tony. Now isn't a good time to push me."

Steve's voice was rough and soft and just a little deadly. Beyond gratifying, the idea that controlled, collected Steve Rogers could lose his mind over Tony again just destroyed whatever made him hesitate. Tony squirmed just to feel Steve tense and shiver. He touched the large biceps on either side of his head to feel the hard muscles jump and flex. This he could handle.

Grinning, Tony raised his head to put his mouth beside Steve's ear. Time to show Rogers how Tony Stark talked dirty. "I want that again. Like that night. I want you all over me, in me."

Steve made a soft whimper, his big arms trembling with the effort to hold himself still, but his breath stuttered. "Tony."

Gripping the wide shoulders so Steve couldn't retreat, Tony nuzzled his throat. "Do you know what it was like for me? Dangling there like a sacrifice and you just worshipped me." He let out a hot, damp sigh right against Steve's ear. "When you put your hands on me, in me, that was incredible. No one ever touched me like that."

"Oh, God,” Steve whispered. His fists trembled against the couch.

"Then," Tony groaned, low and dirty in Steve's ear, giving a little full body shiver that earned him another moan. "Then you were inside me, fucking me. In and out," Tony flicked his tongue into Steve's ear, in and out twice. The man above him gave a sharp gasp. "Taking - I felt like you were all the way inside me - in my chest, in my head. Everything was you. I want that again. I want you to hold me down on this couch and put your fingers inside me, work me mindless."

Tony could almost feel Steve's control unraveling. Any second, he'd snap. They'd have glorious, amazing sex, and he would have another mini freak out -he wouldn't have time.

"I want to be owned like that. Possessed. I want to feel you so deep, so hard, claiming me, marking me. Make me yours."

Steve snarled and fell on him, biting his shoulder again. Those huge arms stayed on the couch, but Steve pushed Tony down with his weight and gripped his head. A hot, desperate kiss made Tony moan, feeling desperate himself. He'd said to get to Steve, but hearing it - saying it - every word was true.

Tony let his hands wander up into Steve's hair, keeping his mouth right there as their tongues thrust, stroked, and curled together. This was perfect.

Then Steve rocked against him, rubbing their bodies together in a slow, deliberate motion.

Feeling Steve's thick, hard cock grinding against his own through layers of cotton and silk - not just a quick press, but a steady rub that felt amazing, Tony's confidence waned again. He tried to stay in the moment, enjoy the mindless thrill of stimulation, but Steve's head dropped to kiss him with equal measure of tenderness and lust, and he could feel fingers curling in his hair.

That night in Testing Room One, things went like this - fast like this, but Tony hadn't had months to think and analyze and feel thoroughly uncomfortable about his new found sexual desire for a man. He'd never wanted a man before Steve, never fantasized about a man sexually until after that night. He needed a minute, just a minute to get back to where his head was two minutes ago.

"I just -" Tony bit his tongue to stop it from ruining this. He lifted his hips against Steve's and tried to get back to where they'd been a minute ago when he was just with Steve and he was completely okay with that.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut for a second, reveling in the roll of Tony's hips against his own. This was too fast, too much. He'd promised himself that if he ever got another chance, he'd make love to Tony slowly, carefully - like he should have their first time.

Part of him desperately wanted to ignore the little burst of sound. People talk and their voices catch during sex. Frankly, he was surprised that Tony wasn't talking constantly, but the pitch had been just a little shrill with a hint of panic. Steve couldn't - wouldn't - ignore that, no matter how badly he ached to finish.

Clenching his fists, Steve backed down. He put the weight of his hips on his knee again and pushed Tony back into the corner where he could nestle in close beside him without the mind numbing friction.

"Quit teasing," Tony complained, but he was breathless, and Steve could see the bravado failing in those expressive brown eyes. A hint of relief and ignored fear cooled Steve's throbbing libido. He kissed Tony lightly, just licking and nibbling at his lips.

Calming down, Steve put his hands under Tony's t-shirt and caressed the tight muscles along his sides. They were both a little damp with sweat, panting loudly in the quiet room. "We should talk first."

A put-upon sigh made Steve grin. "Why? We both have a thing - a mutual thing. Let's have it. Don't over think it. Don't analyze it. Just have our thing and you know, not think ourselves out of it."

"Is that what you did?" Steve asked softly. He traced the line of Tony's jaw with two fingers.

Tony's eyes fixed on Steve's mouth, and he bit his own lips, shrugging. He was still making a face about 'the Talk,' but something uncertain lingered around his eyes.

"You over thought it and somehow concluded that I wanted a fuck-buddy?" Steve was serious, but amused fondness crept into his tone. For a genius, Tony was moron sometimes.

"You never showed any interest before that." Tony pointed out, quietly serious.

Steve cupped Tony's cheek in his hand, getting him to meet his gaze. "I fell in love with you ten months ago." He watched Tony's eyes widen and dazzle like he'd been startled by a camera flash.

"You were repairing cosmetic damage to your chest plate from the Doombot attack in Jersey. There were little flecks of metal on your shirt and arms," Steve moved his hand to stroke Tony's arm between them.

"Like shiny freckles. I tried to ask you if you wanted to come upstairs for dinner." Steve kissed Tony's knuckles. "There you were just happy and excited about your next upgrade for the suit, and I thought: 'everyday, I want to come home to this every day.' I was so gone over that smile; I can't remember what I said."

Tony bit his lip, and Steve reached over, pulling the redden lip out to trace his thumb over it again.

"Food. Dinner. Pasta. Kitchen." Tony quoted, his lips just catching Steve thumb as he spoke. Just a hint of a blush filled his face. "I thought you were teasing me about the mild concussion."

Touched that Tony remembered that moment, Steve kissed him sweetly. He took his time, kissing and tasting with all the care and affection he could offer. Tony responded, but there were tremors of hesitation, little half seconds of stillness that reminded Steve very clearly that they were just starting a relationship and Tony was far from ready for all the things Steve wanted.

Tony broke the long kiss, putting a hand on Steve's chest. His fingers moved in little abortive strokes. "You fell asleep watching _Titanic_ between me and Thor." Tony whispered like it was a secret. "Thor won Rock, Paper, Scissors; and he wanted to see how 'drawing French girls' was used in Midgard courtship."

Steve smiled, remembering the start of that film. It got slow about twenty minutes in.

Tony looked down to where his hand lay on Steve's chest. "I was working on some designs for R&D and you put your head on my shoulder." His hand moved in a hesitant caress. "I looked at you, and you opened one eye halfway and then just fell asleep again."

Tony glanced up at Steve's face and then quickly back down. "That's - that's when I started noticing -you know - stuff."

Steve kissed Tony's cheek beside his nose. "Just so we're clear? I want a relationship. Not friends-with-benefits - yes, I've heard of that."

Tony's lips pursed because Steve forestalled the joke he had for that. They both smiled.

"I want to wake up at horrible hours when you crawl into bed after spending half the night making amazing things. I want to bump elbows at dinner, and kiss you till Fury blushes after a hard mission."

Tony swallowed with a dry click, but smiled against his mouth. "Yeah, that. Me, too. I mean I want that, too."

Steve traced his fingers over Tony's throat and met his brown eyes again. "We're gonna have to talk, Tony. This is too important to just hope it works on its own. We're gonna keep arguing. We'll have fights. We'll make up, but we won't work - we can't work if we don't talk."

Tony nodded, and put his hands on Steve's face. "I screwed up."

Steve started to say that he didn't, to bring up Tony's doubts and acknowledge how hard it can be to face new facets of his own sexuality, but Tony put a finger on his lips. The hesitation was gone. He still looked uncertain, but that to-the-bone tenacity of his shone in his eyes. "Let me say this."

Dipping his head in a half nod, Steve waited.

Tony took a deep breath. "I know I screwed up. Even if we weren't - you didn't -I thought, but. Okay." He took another breath. "Even if I needed time to think about the thing, I was a shitty friend for the last year. I can't promise that I won't freak out and do something stupid or thoughtless ever again, but I want to try. I really want to try."

Steve kissed Tony when his voice went hoarse on the last sentence. They clung to each others' lips, murmuring soft, quiet things between breaths.

A long while later, as the kisses became closed mouthed pressed and they relaxed together, Steve felt incredible, but the mood had passed. He let Tony draw lazy circles on his chest without the hungry press of desire.

"We're not gonna have sex today," Tony sighed in a playful, suffering tone. His eyes were lit with inner mischief when Steve just raised an eyebrow at him. "That's fine. We can go slow." He slid his arms around Steve's waist and snuggled a little closer. "A hand job's not off the table though."

They both tensed, looked at each other, and burst into laughter. It wasn't this funny. Steve knew that as they clutched at each other howling with laughter. This was months of tension and anxiety paired with sudden, unexpected relief.

Tony shook in his arms, his laugh full and deep. Steve let out his own high pitched sigh ad they calmed down.

They laid there, drowsy and comfortable for a long time. Steve shifted and tucked his face between Tony's neck and the cushion. Tony was petting his hair and dosing off. "Wasn't kidding about the hand job," he teased sleepily, even as Steve felt the body in his arms beginning to go limp with sleep.

Giving a soft chuckle, Steve kissed Tony's neck. He breathed in the scent of cologne and sweat with just a hint of oil or grease.

Tony wasn't the only one stepping into new territory. Steve's experience was a collection of 'thank God we're not dead' sex and those clinging desperate nights between missions. Sex had been about comfort and relief while staving off the desperate terror of war, of dying in the morning. He'd never been sweet on anyone but Peggy back then, and he'd wanted a lot more than a quick, desperate tumble with her.

He squeezed Tony gently, careful not to wake him as he drifted off. This want was for something just as permanent, just as completely consuming.

Times were different. Everyone reminded him of that like he'd forget if they didn't mention it, but that didn't mean things would be easy. Hadn't he tortured himself with worrying about it these past months? About how it would affect the team, SHIELD's response, Tony's company, the press...

Groaning softly, he pushed all that aside. Right now, Steve just wanted to be with Tony and the whole world could just butt out. He smiled and gently sucked on Tony's neck, letting his mind float in the haze of comfort. They'd figure everything else out later.

Tony said it earlier, "Don't over think it."

Steve smiled loosely as sleep tugged his mind away. That was a great plan. It should be; Tony was a genius after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a sequel. It will have Steve's letter, promised finger porn, and angst.

**Author's Note:**

> This one-hot night story is taking a lot longer to end than I ever intended.


End file.
